


shem haleal

by quietdown



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Picard, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: ALL THE GOOD STUFF, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asimov - Freeform, Battle of Wolf 359 (Star Trek), Data & Geordi LaForge Friendship, Data Really Is Fully Functional!, Digital Afterlife, Emotionally Constipated Picard, Found Family, Lower Decks, M/M, Mythology References, POV Data (Star Trek), Perfect Sunshine Man Data, Politics, Pre-Star Trek: Picard, Recovery, Religion, Romulans, Sentience, Shakespeare, Spot!, Star Trek: Picard Spoilers, Starfleet Academy, TNG Movies, The Iliad, The Meaning in General, The Meaning of Life, Trauma, Vulcans, Wizard of Oz References, consciousness, richard siken, the meaning of love, the slowest of burns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:33:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 21,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26100457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietdown/pseuds/quietdown
Summary: Begins as Cadet Data goes through Starfleet Academy, using personal logs to comment on his surroundings. Follows Data through the course of his life, death and service aboard the USSEnterpriseand beyond. Featuring an ensemble cast, lower decks, scientific shenanigans, political meandering, personal discovery and TNG episodic rewrites.
Relationships: Data/Jean-Luc Picard, Data/Jenna D'Sora, Data/Tasha Yar, Data/Taurik (Star Trek)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	1. 2341.14

**Author's Note:**

> i. my original notes say _shem haleal_ translates to _adversary of character_ , but now that i actually speak hebrew i realize it just says "name the future" so who knows. kinda still fits tbh  
> ii. stardate system is organized as year:day-of-the-year (i.e today is 2020.237)  
> iii. this fic is 10 years old and is a WIP which i intend on finishing; first comes editing or altogether rewriting the existing 8 chapters  
> iv. the primary ship is data/picard, with some data/taurik lingerings, data/tasha yar, and data/jenna d'sora  
> v. this fic was born out of my need to explore what being a sentient artificial being would really, actually be like, and how that diverges from how star trek portrays it  
> vi. a lot of this is AU and many characters appear, are expanded upon and given distinct personalities that may not be represented in canon  
> [vii](https://i.ibb.co/RyqgZ7C/acasty.png). 1x4 is marigold keahi, 2x2 is ariel leverson

_Personal log. Stardate 2341.14._

[ _Begin Recording_ ]

I have decided to begin this personal log to document my observations about life in Starfleet, with the purpose of better understanding human customs.

The statement _human customs_ is vague and generalized, considering that Starfleet Academy caters to various species of differing capabilities and sentience, but that is another human custom. This is the first time I have ever used a generalization, and I find the lack of specific information to be inordinately disconcerting. It appears to be a stated falsehood, and I do not yet understand the difference between a lie and a generalization.  
  
That is the first observation that I have made since beginning my tutelage at Starfleet Academy. The human officers tend to make rash and generalized statements that blanket other beings in a perception that is biased and stereotypical.

I have approached and spoken with a Vulcan cadet named Taurik, who agrees with my analysis of the phenomenon of description. He, however, uses his own forms of generalized statements: _Illogical._ I pointed this fact out to him and he engaged in a peculiar facial expression that included raising his left eyebrow and frowning. I assume his emotional response to my elucidation of his behavior was due to his surprise at his own lack of self-awareness. He argued with me that, while he did not extend the specifics of his statement that a thing was _illogical,_ it was the truth at the time as he viewed it.

The concept fascinated me, and illuminated a possibility that I had not considered before. Is it a lie if you believe something you say? The Starfleet officers that I witnessed making these generalizations appeared to be convinced of the notion that they were the truth. Their facial expressions were not consistent with the ones I associate with lying. Though I must admit that I have trouble with distinguishing this particular emotion as well.

I am also uncertain whether it is indeed an emotion, or otherwise. Often, lying will present itself in lieu of an emotional response, and my programming and the accumulation of all the information that I have acquired over the course of my activation period have led me to believe that lying is indeed an emotional response.

I am told that this form of personal self-reflection is common amongst a wide variety of races. Taurik mentioned a Vulcan writer by the name of T'Mera, who used a private commentary in her publications in order to bring the Vulcan general audience to personal philosophical revelations. I have studied the mementos of various authors, and I have conducted a survey with my roommate Alyssa Ogawa, and two of her friends, named Coriana and Sandra.

All of the information agrees on one particular thing. My personal account must include information about myself. I am not yet certain why this is, but I will adhere to it. I believe there is a certain form of logic to adhering to the structure of true personalized accounts of events. Though I do not understand the reasons for these structures implicitly, many of my misunderstandings of social interaction come from my inability to dwell upon what has happened.

By creating this account of events, I am better able to analyze the information and form rational answers to my questions based upon hypothesis and observation. This is another characteristic that is common in routine social interaction.

My name is Data. I do not have a last name. I am a Soong-type android, and as far as I am aware, I am the only one of my kind. If I were to have a _last name_ in the traditional manner of humans, it would most likely be Soong. That is the last name of the man who created me: Dr. Noonien Soong. I have resided in Starfleet Academy for just over fourteen days. I live in shared quarters, an experience that I will chronicle in depth at a later time. I am compelled to form a reminder, or _note_ , within my matrix to do so.

I do not have any companions among the Academy members, though I am beginning to frequently interact on a more personal basis with Taurik _maat_ 'Karon, the Vulcan engineer in my Operations track-year. We are in the same exo-biology class. He has taught me valuable information about Vulcan culture, a subject that he converses on regularly and with visible enjoyment. We often have arguments over the merits of shying away from all emotion. He believes that my state is envious, whereas I am of the opinion that he freely shuns that which I wish for most: the intrinsic qualia of an emotional existence. Nevertheless, he is the only person in the Academy that does not appear overtly uncomfortable in my presence.

My teachers appear to find me adequate, as I am impervious to the belligerence and rebellion of the other students and I am readily available to answer their questions and complete their objectives within the allotted time frame. I am majoring in probability mechanics and am in the Operations track.

I was officially activated on February 2nd, 2338. This is comparable to being _born_. I would say that February 2nd is my birth date. I have experienced a total of three years in my activated state. The definition of _android_ applicable to myself is indicative that I look human. I have two hands, two arms, two legs, a torso, a head, skin, and eyes. These traits are most associated with a humanoid appearance. I have heard medical students use this description to fit a bipedal humanoid many a time. Such descriptions are often colloquial, with such terms as _two legs and a heartbeat._  
  
They are considered to be the _human standard._ To conform to the nature of human description, I have chosen these sets of limbs as my own appropriating measure of my own appearance. These traits, and all other physical manifestations that I possess, are facsimiles. They have been rendered to suggest to others that I am humanoid in nature. My internal and biological structure is non-organic, composed of twenty four kilograms of tri-polymer composites, eleven kilograms of molybdenum-cobalt alloys, and one kilogram of bio-plast sheeting, used to simulate skin. I have been told that it feels _real_ , though I cannot confirm this with accuracy.

My storage capacity, which in organic life forms would be akin to their _memory_ , is one hundred petabytes. That is over fifty times the identifiable storage capacity of the human brain. These are not specific numbers, because I am told that an over-specification of numerical information is often taxing and monotonous for those listening. Since I am the only one who has access to this, I have determined that no one would listen. It may seem illogical that I conform to the habits I have designated as important in social interaction, because I am not interacting with anyone. However, I believe that it is imperative in beginning to understand interaction itself that I continue with these behaviors within the confines of my personal accounts. It is a fascinating experience to justify the reasons why I am completing these things, to no one but my own self.

I have a computational speed of sixty trillion operations per second. Where I make computations, most species would substitute thought. I am capable of running simultaneous operations, or thoughts, at the same time. Often this is done in excess of thousands, which confuses many people because I appear to jump from subject to subject in my verbal communication. I have often found myself dismayed with my lack of ability to efficiently communicate the ideas that I possess verbally. I am certain that my method of thought and the human method of thought are extraordinarily dissimilar.

Whereas I compute, humans tend to arrive at their personal conclusions by way of self-discovery, understanding feeling and emotion; terms that are indefinably vague. I have yet to have an independent thought that did not occur based upon computing differing sets of information to arrive at a mathematically equivalent (or middle ground) answer. Even the few estimations I have given have been based upon probability equations. I am frequently troubled by my lack of _gut instinct_.

I am considered to be a sentient being. I am one of the very few sentient androids that exist. When I was activated, I assumed that I was the only one. Scientific fact tells me that it is improbable that I am the only manifestation of inorganic life to possess cohesion and intelligence arrived at by way of sentience. I have often contemplated the meaning of sentience, and what separates a living entity from a sentient entity.

My Starfleet cadet file states that I am a living being. Despite this, I am often treated by other members of the Academy below the accepted standards of respect. I have yet to understand why this is. Taurik tells me that it is because of the fact that the majority of Starfleet is human, a race that is known for the displayed fear of things that are not understood. If there is one thing that I have learned, it is that I am not easily understood in any capacity.

It took me many months of being activated to realize the nature of my own sentience. I am sentient because I have desires. I have wishes. I have needs. I have wants. I want to join Starfleet. I want to be understood. I want to be respected. I want to learn human social interaction. I choose to believe that I am a person, which is a credit toward achieving said goal. So far I believe it is the only adequate step that I have managed to take. That is a metaphor, though relatively simplistic. I am told that the metaphor comes from the _goal_ being a staircase, and each step that I would take up this so-called _staircase_ would be myself, as an abstract concept, becoming closer to my desired outcome. I still have difficulty with understanding metaphors, and in identifying them.

I cannot ascertain where these desires come from. While I do not have thoughts, precisely, there exists a type of bicameral, electric impulse that guides me, which I am able to translate into language. I do not experience emotions, but I feel a strange sort of satisfaction in contemplating my existence. Dr. Noonien Soong created me in the hopes that I would be a sentient android, capable of emulating minor humanoid behavior. I believe that one day, I shall be able to emulate the full spectrum of human behavior, and eventually to experience emotions. I have surpassed the expectations of my creator, and I surprise those around me with my sentience.

I have met Starfleet cadets who pride their intelligence above all else. Taurik is one such individual. I cannot understand this. Intelligence is not a feat of wonder. Intelligence can be replicated, understood, quantified. What is unquantifiable is existence. Why not aspire to exist, in and of itself, for no other purpose? Tangible desires, that have no basis in logic, that is the essence of self. One would not consider the human desire to eat a true _desire_ , as it is a biologically programmed imperative.  
  
A plant desires to grow toward sunlight, but it does not have _self_. It is not sentient. I am.

That is all of the relevant information about myself which I am able to impart. Analyzing what I have just said, I have determined that it has indeed been beneficial to this experiment. I will return to my personal study area tomorrow evening at 1900 hours to repeat this exercise with more experiences to share. There is an element of utter fascination with this project that I had not expected previously. I anticipate completing more personal logs in the future.

[ _End Recording_ ]


	2. 2341.17

_Personal log. Stardate 2341.17._

[ _Begin Recording_ ]

I have determined that there are vital pieces of information that it is important I impart in this personal account, which were not in my previous recording.

I find that this experiment takes up much of my thoughts. It is an unusual sensation to be distracted in my work by a personal project. I am told by Taurik that it is a _most human expression._ I find his analysis to be fascinating. I believe that he understands intellectually that I find his comments to be often complimentary, though I do not think that he originally intends it as such. That he continues to make such comments suggests that he finds my company to be satisfactory. That is a desirable state of events.

Because this is a personal self reflection, I have determined that it is necessary for me to record the reasoning basis for my decisions. Whether or not they were arrived at logically, and whether or not they reflect upon my sentient nature, is of importance to me. I have made very large decisions on the direction that I perceive is the best for my life to go in.

That is another metaphor. I am still experiencing difficulty with mastering them. The metaphors that I employ are simplistic and repetitive. In human figurative language, I do not believe they are even considered to be metaphorical; more that they are vital expressions. The _direction_ that I should take my life in is based upon my own personal reasoning.

I decided to join Starfleet because of their involvement in rescuing me from isolation on my planet of origin, Omicron Theta. I do not remember my primitive years, but it is my understanding that I was left alone for several of them. When I was first activated, I did not understand the concept of isolation. I assumed that because I did not experience emotions, I would not be susceptible to pain or loneliness. This is false.

In my last recording, I illuminated my idea that sentience is based upon personal self development and desire. I am discovering that I have a limited capacity to understand situations that I do not desire, as well as situations which I do. This must be due to the very nature of desire itself. When one desires a certain outcome, there must be outcomes which are equally unfavorable. I found loneliness and isolation to be unfavorable. My decision to join Starfleet was based upon their efforts to rescue me from it.

They activated me, thus aiding in my sentient nature. I owe my state of awareness to the Starfleet officers aboard the USS _Tripoli_.

Starfleet is not a perfect organization, but I wished to learn more about it. The facts I obtained were that it is an interstellar paramilitary organization devoted to the exploration and understanding of alien races and cultures.

Starfleet took me in, when I had been abandoned. I do not feel gratitude, but I can understand the practical application of it. I wished to complete an action that would show an indication of gratitude, which I believe to be a logical emotive response. I cannot experience the emotion, but I am able to complete tasks that adhere to my perceived structure of it. By dedicating my life to Starfleet, I am showing that I do not take for granted what has happened to me.

My own natural curiosity has also proven to be an asset. My strength, agility, speed, and computational ability are all assets to Starfleet. I am immune to radiation, psionic influence, gaseous toxins, and intoxicating substances. My training exercises with the other cadets have proven me an invaluable resource to Starfleet. Even though all of these things are true, it took one month of deliberations between the Starfleet evaluation committee members in order to accept my entrance into the Academy. This was due to one specific person who opposed my entry, Commander Bruce Maddox, based upon on the grounds that I was not a sentient being.

I chose to disagree, and I approached the evaluation committee with the benefit of the captain of the USS _Tripoli_. Captain Leverson made a point of suggesting that my refusal to be considered a pile of circuitry and sub-processors indicated my level of sentience. Admiral Tirina agreed, and Commander Maddox's opinion was invalidated. I still correspond with Captain Leverson, though he is no longer in command of the _Tripoli_. I choose to remain in contact with him because of his role of guidance in my life, however small it may have been. He was responsible for my entering the Academy, and I feel an affinity toward him, though I cannot speculate as to why this is.

I live in shared quarters, a topic that I am interested in exploring.  
  
My roommate's name is Alyssa Ogawa, a human female from the outlier colony Korgalis X, and pursuing a medical education within the Sciences track. She states that she is interested in Starfleet because she believes that she possesses a military mind. I am uncertain as to what that means, though I have observed innate tendencies in her behavioral pattern toward adherence to structure, rule, discipline and self control. When I inquire about this, she informs me that these traits are popular within the familial military mindset. She believes that Starfleet is _good for her_ in terms of her mental health. Her reason differs from my own, as do the reasons of most of the people that I have asked.

Taurik joined Starfleet because he admired a man named Spock as a young child. He would not classify it as such, but I believe that as children, Vulcans are far more prone to emotion than they would allow anyone to acknowledge.

Taurik often displays rebellious emotions, and a distaste for authority figures. He insists that he does not subscribe to such notions, and I do not believe him to be a liar. I cannot yet fully understand the nuances of his statements, but as I spend more time interacting with him I am forced to conclude that he is living under an ideological rock.

That is another metaphor. Living under a _rock_ or a _shell_ , is a human way of describing an extremely sheltered existence. A lack of knowing of the outside world, and of one's place in it.

Taurik understands the outside world, but he does not understand his own mind. He has sheltered himself away from the notion that he is an emotive being, as most other sentient species I have met are emotive beings. I believe his refusal to admit to his true nature may be because of an emotion called shame.

Living with Alyssa has allowed me to gain a better understanding of the way that humans conduct themselves. In the beginning of our association, Alyssa was very apprehensive about sharing quarters with me. She says that over time, she has developed an affection for me, due to our close contact with one another on a daily basis. I am unsure as to why this has happened.

Alyssa tells me that it is a Human failing. Humans tend to place personality among things that generally have none. Animals, computers, even their own children's toys. She says it is a way in which humans are able to connect with things that they cannot always understand. She says that, by interacting with me, she has noticed several displayed traits within myself that are consistent with a _personality_.

Alyssa has stated that she believes me to be curious, engaging, self sufficient, outgoing, polite, and mild mannered. She says that these are all traits associated with a typically friendly human adult male. I find her approach to my _personality_ to be extremely interesting.

I have observed a number of things since living with Alyssa. She requires at least six hours of sleep, and four main meals per each twenty four hour period in time. My own brain, though it is not composed of organic material, rather a highly advanced positronic neural net, is wired to perceive days in intervals of twenty six hours.

Alyssa tells me that Humans have neurological programming as well, though it is far less accurate than my own. The human neurological programming for night and day is composed of feedback from the thalamic and hypothalamic regions. I have researched the human brain meticulously.

The thalamus is the area of the human brain that controls sensory input, and the hypothalamus is the area that regulates melatonin, orexin, temperature, and neurohormone production. The relevant functions are of producing melatonin and orexin. Those are the two chemicals responsible for the circadian rhythm, and for creating sensations of hunger, thirst, and fullness. The zenith of the Human sun is received through the thalamus. Because it is perceived as becoming _light_ and _dark_ , that function is regulated by the hypothalamus. When it becomes dark outside, the hypothalamus begins production of melatonin. This begins the circadian cycle. Human circadian cycle is therefore dependent upon the apparent orbit of their sun.

Because I am an android, I do not require sleep. I am unsure as to why Humans and other species alike require such long periods of restive behavior.

Alyssa and Taurik have both been unable to answer my questions relating to it. Taurik tells me that the pattern of sleep in the night time is potentially related to the humanoid evolutionary pattern that night was safer than day, in terms of predatory animals. When a humanoid rests, it allows for healthier cell division, and it results in a humanoid at their peak. I am therefore forced to conclude that as an android, I am at my peak at all times, because of the waived need for cell reproduction.

There are times when I am forced to undergo a regenerative procedure, in order to fix any malfunctions I may display that my internal diagnostic program is unable to identify and correct. I have postulated that this is comparable to sleep.

Alyssa also undergoes a strict exercise regimen that involves something known as _kickboxing_. She says that it is used to promote physical well being, cardiac stimulation, and mental health. She has been unable to explain the latter, though I am certain that it is due to the production of endorphins associated with long periods of activity. Alyssa generally exercises between thirty minutes to an hour per day. Five days ago, she attempted to involve me in the procedure. She says that I am too stiff and uncoordinated to participate. I am endeavoring to learn how to make my movements more fluid and natural.

I have also attempted to master the practice of _appearing engaged_ , another element of my natural posture that offended Alyssa. She stated that I was too rigid, and unmoving in my facial features. Alyssa believed that the looming stare I presented to others was _eerie_ and intimidating, and that she should not feel like she was speaking to an inanimate object. This took me some time to understand. Eventually I began to notice _listening behaviors_ through observing Alyssa and Taurik, and to a lesser extent the other cadets around me. I have practiced several hours at this, including the ability to blink my eyes in a natural manner, and Alyssa's response to my improvements is a positive one.

Living with Alyssa has proven to be a valuable experience. She is allowing me insights into private human behaviors, and is unafraid to answer any questions I have about her conduct. She has confided in me that when we were first acquainted, she was uncomfortable and frightened of me. She did not understand my questions, and could not answer them properly. She told me she had never thought of things the way that she is now forced to think of them, in order to answer my questions. She simply exists in her natural state, and has never had cause to examine it before. She found this to be disconcerting, and unnerving. Since speaking with me in depth, she has amended her statement to suggest a new curiosity for her own behaviors.

I would not say that Alyssa or Taurik are my companions, but I know that I am growing more comfortable with speaking to them. I do not need to be hyper-aware that they may be playing a practical joke on me, which has occurred on several occasions in my sixteen days of being here.

Alyssa tells me that I force her to examine every aspect of her functioning as though it is new, and wondrous. She says that she has developed a new appreciation for humanity through her interaction with me, and that she regrets her participation in a practical joke that her friends orchestrated to welcome me to the Academy.

I find this to be satisfactory. I understand specific situations in which forgiveness may be applied as an emotional reaction, due to my observations of others. I do not necessarily understand forgiveness, but I am able to determine that the situation with Alyssa would warrant such, were I able to provide it. As such, I harbor no ill will or malice toward her. She is a highly acceptable roommate.

_[End Recording]_


	3. 2341.48

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i. both spaceshipone and the C-131 samaritan are real space crafts  
> ii. the C-131 samaritan is referred to by astronauts jokingly as the _vomit comet_  
>  iii. stephen hawking was permitted the flight as a gift for the celebration of his sixty-fifth birthday

_Personal log. Stardate 2341.48._  
  
[ _Begin Recording_ ]  
  
I had originally planned for this to be a daily log of occurrences within my life, but due to the strain of work, I find that my ability to achieve an in-depth log experience on a daily basis is severely impaired. It is not an undue pressure that prevents me from completing such, rather it is the demand for my constant presence. I am starting to be considered a vital element in several Academy projects and cadet training. As such, the time that I would normally devote to completing these records is greatly impeded upon. 

I have been assigned to the Academy shuttlecraft _San Joaquin_. It is our job to map out the radiation in the Earth's atmosphere, and to confirm that it is within acceptable boundaries for human survival. We are being supervised by an Admiral Techevek. 

The analysis of the radiation in the atmosphere of Earth is underway as scheduled. I am aboard the shuttlecraft at the moment. I have retreated to my personal quarters, which are not more than a mere bunk stowed away in the lower levels. 

Taurik and Alyssa are also assigned to this mission. My neural circuits are beginning to grow accustomed to their presence. Surprisingly, it was Taurik himself who illuminated the process to me. That, in effect, it was possible for me to experience friendship. This is due to the fact that my positronic matrix becomes accustomed to repeated stimuli. If those stimuli are beneficial, it becomes used to the stimuli and eventually begins to anticipate its arrival. It has been determined that I am even able to _miss_ such stimuli when they are absent. 

Alyssa tells me that it is a rather primitive form of a bond of friendship. It is this itself that has lead me to wonder whether or not Alyssa or Taurik consider me to be their friend. More importantly, whether or not I consider Alyssa and Taurik to be my friends. 

This is my first LOF. That is an acronym, a modicum of speech utilized by humans quite in the way that contractions are used. Contractions, like acronyms, are an attempt to save time in speech patterns by adhering to a preconceived notion that one already understands the terms used. For myself, contractions and acronyms belay that process due to my innate misunderstanding of them. Often, I require much clarification before I am able to understand. It is this fact that disables me from using contractions of my own. I have no preconceived knowledge of their meaning. Aside from this, it is simply not written into my original programming. The engineers at Starfleet do not have the appropriate skill level to accommodate for such a thing. I am better able to understand acronyms than any other form of human colloquialism. 

LOF is an acronym for Low Orbital Flight. A low orbital flight is an exercise that allows one to achieve a low standard orbit around a planetoid body. This allows for an atmospheric view of the conditions below, while maintaining anti-gravitational plating. Traditionally, this would be present throughout the shuttle craft, but with the necessity of our mission, this novelty has been granted to only a minor portion of the ship. This anti-gravity was mostly used by humans in the late 2010-2020 periods, for what I am told are _tourist attraction_ purposes. Accessing my files: one such shuttle to achieve a LOF for that purpose was known as _SpaceShipOne_. 

Looking down at Earth below, I am able to appreciate the aesthetic value in such an endeavor. I imagine that it would be intriguing for humans of that time period. Stephen Hawking-a renowned physicist from the late twenty first century-remarked in one of his later speeches before his demise, that another craft designed for LOF-the C-131 _Samaritan_ -was the only such adventure he had ever been on which had enabled him to experience freedom from the confines of his wheelchair. 

It is my first time being assigned to responsibilities such as these, and I have confidence in my abilities to achieve what must be done. Nevertheless, I wish to do the best I can. Not merely because it is within my programming to achieve the ultimate form of any task, but because I wish to demonstrate to those around me that I am competent in handling any order given to me. I cannot isolate the cause for these desires, but it has fueled me to attain the achievement of being at the top of every class presented to me. 

My classes have been engaging thus far. I have little difficulty with completing the tasks assigned to me. 

The issue, as I have previously mentioned, is mostly due to my incompetence in social endeavors. I am frequently the source of amusement by my Academy peers, in the form of practical jokes. I have yet to understand why these things are amusing to them, and I have asked Alyssa to help me to isolate the cause for humor. What she has said only puzzles me further. 

She has used myself as an example. Many people will laugh at something that I have said, whereas I have no understanding as to the amusement value. This happens most frequently with Alyssa, so she uses herself as an example. When I state something she finds humorous, she takes the time to enlighten me as to the value of my comment, and then proceeds to continue with her laughter. This has the benefit of not excluding me from such a thing. Other people, however, find my mannerisms amusing. They do not attempt to engage me in this process, but merely laugh even further at my attempts to communicate. She says that while her intent is of kindness, theirs is not. She says that they are laughing _at_ me, at my inability to conform to expected social norms, as opposed to at something I have said or done that is deliberately humorous. 

I do not understand the concepts of unkindness. I understand feelings of hatred and malice, but spiteful unkindness for no purpose other than to taunt another individual is a thing that I have not yet mastered. Children in school are often considered by human parents to be _cruel_ , to other children. Yet they are not a threat. If these things are not threatening forces, why are they deigned harmful by those whom are affected? It is my eventual goal to become as human as I can, to become more than what I have been designed to be. Yet at the same time, I cannot wonder if perhaps I am lucky not to experience the emotional fallout of such things. 

_Luck_ , is another such concept I have difficulty with. It indicates mathematical probability, and I am able to understand it in these terms. Humans, however, tend to view luck as something akin to fate, and chance. I have difficulty in understanding the mechanisms of fate, and by proxy, of luck as well. Taurik has told me that the definition of fate is a combined action-reaction response of the universe. He says that it is related to the physicist's qualm that _Every action, however small, has an equal and opposite reaction._ Fate, then, must be an accumulation of those reactions. The difficulty in my understanding of this is apparent, but I am confident that I am beginning to learn the application of fate and luck with regards to my own existence. 

An example of fate: 

Dr. Noonien Soong and his wife Juliana Soong moved to a remote colony on Omicron Theta. There, they created myself. Thus, I was activated. I cannot remember these years, but presumably I was deactivated shortly after. I was left there. I was a created being. From what I understand of fate, it had seemingly brought these two individuals together, the sum total of all the decisions they had made in their life prior-a consequence they could not anticipate. And in turn, they created myself. Fate, then once again intervened, for Starfleet rescued me from the isolation of nonexistence. 

It is within this limited understanding that I am able to say that it might be _luck_ which prevents me from feeling emotionally affected by the cruelty of my peers. 

It is 0700 hours, and I am due on the main bridge of the _San Joaquin_. I will return at a later time to document my findings, and to continue attempting to isolate the strange phenomenon known as human Interaction. 

[ _End Recording_ ]


	4. 2341.50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i. in ds9 tradition, the _san joachuin_ is named after the longest river in california

_Personal log. Stardate 2341.50._

[ _Begin Recording_ ] 

The survey of the planet Earth went scheduled according to the plans of Admiral Techevek. We have had one twenty-seven hour period to, as Alyssa terms it, _relax_ before our return to San Francisco. The survey revealed an above average accumulation of radiation within Earth's atmosphere, a specific calculation of 4.56% increase above normal. 

This morning, at our breakfast meeting in the tiny kitchen afforded by the shuttle craft, Taurik sat across from me. Taurik's mannerisms are peculiar to watch. He positions himself in a rigid posture, and yet manages to move fluidly at the same time. It is particularly fascinating to me, as I have been told of my excessive rigidity on multiple occasions, both by my peers and my teachers. Yet, despite the Vulcan propensity toward stoicism and formality, Taurik easily manages to incorporate both into his movements. I cannot. 

He was drinking a beverage known as _saya_ , a thick orange substance with the taste, I am told, of a rather sour citrus fruit. Taurik is far more lenient in his consummation of beverages than I have noted is the norm for other Vulcans. _Saya_ , as I am told, has a distinct ability to mildly alter the conscious perceptive state of an individual. I have been told it can make one _tipsy_. The term tipsy, more specifically, refers to the feeling that one may get after ingesting an alcoholic beverage. The reason being that one is more likely to _tip over_. This colloquialism inherently makes sense. _Tipsiness_ precludes drunkenness. 

He lowered himself into the chair and asked me to postulate the reason for this 4.56% increase. I asked him why he wished for me to do so, and he stated that he was curious as to whether or not I was able to make an estimation. I told him that it is possible, but that my estimations would be arrived at upon concluding the mathematical probability of each set of circumstances that I hypothesize-not by any particular _gut instinct_. 

Taurik nodded at me in agreement, and he raised the beverage in testament to my apparently proper phrasing before downing a rather large portion of it. "Vulcans," he said to me, "operate under the same _modus operandi_." 

He paused at that interval, which was an indication that he expected me to reveal my concluded estimation at that moment. I told him that I expected the above average levels of radiation to be due to the aftereffects of the third world war. Since they were only abnormally high as a slight divergence from norm, I postulated that it would eventually dissipate into a proper level of irradiation.

Another raise of his glass seemed to indicate his further agreement with my analysis. 

I asked him about the mannerism of his raising of the glass, and he made an inscrutable facial expression. After being in his presence for thirty five days, I am beginning to understand the subtleties to his emotions, but I am still only able to detect basic feelings such as happiness and sadness. This expression might lend itself best toward being _amused_. He told me that it was a behavior that he had picked up after being around humans for so long. In effect, their mannerisms had begun to _rub off_ on him. After much questioning, I have learned that Vulcans are susceptible to more humanoid mannerisms the longer that they are in contact with the species. He tells me that it is due to their psionic abilities. That, and he has shown an un-Vulcan affinity toward human mannerisms.

He has told me that he has been in the presence of humans for thirty years, and that he had grown _fond_ of them. 

Recalling information from my data bank, I realized that he was quoting a famed Vulcan ambassador named Soval, one of the leading Vulcan founders of our current Federation. I believe it was meant to be an attempt at humor, but his wit is wasted upon me. He says, in response to my bringing this to his attention, that wit is never wasted-merely perceived. That I was able to identify such a thing, indicated it was indeed not wasted upon me, and that I had now learned a new thing about his character. 

I asked Taurik if he viewed me as a friend and he told me that due to my ability to form friendships, he would categorize me in such a position. Taurik is the first companion that I have ever had. 

When we disembarked the _San Joaquin_ , and docked back in the Academy field dock, I had with me the accumulated findings indexed fully on my dataPADD. I handed them to Admiral Techevek, with what I may only identify as satisfaction. I had stated to myself, as a personal goal, to do the best that I was able to do. I included my hypothesis of the events surrounding the irradiation of the atmosphere, and the Admiral looked pleased at my full analysis. He commended myself, Taurik, and Alyssa, for a _job well done_. I had fulfilled my personal obligation to complete the assignment to the best of my ability. 

This evening, when I returned to my quarters, I was invited to a poker game between Alyssa, Taurik, and a crewman named Kenneth Gionis. Kenneth was a friend to Alyssa, and I admit an apprehension toward the experience. My neural circuits have become accustomed to Alyssa and Taurik, but it is a novel experience to meet another person with whom discomfort would be their reigning emotion. I find myself often dissatisfied in placing an individual under undue stress, and thus I generally limit my contact with beings that I am unfamiliar with. 

I also find that the human emotion of _trust_ appears to come into play. I do not understand trust as a human emotion, but I understand trust in the way that I am programmed. If I am continually harmed by a predestined set of circumstances, I am disinclined to repeat the set of circumstances, due to my desire to avoid the discomfort associated with the harm involved. This is a survival mechanism, designed to keep me away from situations that are harmful toward myself. As I have grown as a sentient being, these circumstances have evolved to include situations which are not life threatening. 

In simple terms, my positronic brain is unaccustomed to social gatherings where I may not be perceived as a genuine being. This set of circumstances is unfavorable to me. I cannot experience _hurt feelings_ , nor malice toward those who commit actions that would _hurt_ the feelings of another, but I am able to experience wariness in exposing myself to situations where the feedback from my programming states that it is an inappropriate situation for me to place myself in. 

I experience hesitance in accepting their invitation. Taurik tells me that it will be a perfectly amicable evening, and that he and Alyssa are both my friends. If Kenneth Gionis were to insult me, by playing a practical joke or otherwise, I would not feel the hurt associated with such a thing, but I would feel a distaste toward the situation. Nevertheless, they attempt to reassure me by stating that Taurik and Alyssa would dispatch of the ill mannerisms immediately. 

When I ask why this would be done, Taurik states this is because of _camaraderie._ One does not allow _one of their own_ to have an offense committed against them. Alyssa states, _not even if they are unable to perceive it._ It is these statements alone which have made me decide to join their poker game after all. It shall be an interesting experience. 

[ _End Recording_ ]


	5. 2341.60

_Personal log. Stardate 2341.60._

[ _Begin Recording_ ] 

Poker is an unusual game. 

It has been ten days since my last recording, wherein I had accepted a game of poker between Kenneth, Alyssa, and Taurik. As I predicted, I was inept at the process. Kenneth attempted to teach me a skill known as _bluffing_ , which I failed to achieve in monumental proportions. I am capable of telling a lie, but I am uncertain how to do so with success. It is not that I cannot lie, but that I simply lack the skills involved in doing so. It confounds me. 

The rules of the game were simple. I was dealt two cards, and I was then to use the _board_ , which is three cards lain face up and at my disposal. I was then to choose the necessary cards for a proper hand. Having memorized the hands and their values, I had assumed to have picked the most beneficial hand that I was able. Nevertheless, I lost. I simply do not understand. I utilized my programming to the maximum ability. I played the game with skill. Why, then, have I lost? 

Alyssa tells me that the reason I have lost is because of my inability to understand _bluffing_. While my human peers may find it difficult to determine if I am lying or telling the truth based upon my facial expressions (I do not have a _tell_ , or a micro-expression that belies whether or not I am being genuine) I cannot properly assume from the facial features of those around me whether or not they are lying. This is a skill that I had assumed that I had developed in more detail. Alyssa tells me that yes, I am generally able to deduce if another is lying, but that in poker one deliberately schools their face into a mask of non-emotionalism to hide this fact. Alyssa says that Taurik and I have very good _poker faces_. 

I will not seek out to repeat the experience until I am better able to determine if my... 

[ _Pause Recording_ ] 

[ _Time Elapsed: 7.65 Seconds_ ] 

[ _Resume Recording_ ] 

...friends, are bluffing. For I do believe that they are my friends. In the only manner that it is possible for me to attain friendship, I believe that I have done so. 

As I spend more time with them, I will endeavor to watch their mannerisms closely to determine their normal pattern of behavior when they are concealing something. After this period of time, I will accept another _re-match_ to a poker game. This will help foster the relations of friendship that I have developed with Taurik and Alyssa. Perhaps Kenneth would not be averse to exploring this possibility as well. In terms of sentient desire, I find that outcome to be... favorable. 

Despite losing the poker game, the experience was not without benefit. I had ample time to discuss the proponents of _string theory_ with Kenneth. He is taking an antiquated physics class. I am uncertain as to why this is, as he appears to be quite unskilled at it. He is not a lazy student, nor inept at most of his other projects, but he is unable to _wrap his mind around_ the concept of multiple dimensions. 

I have heard the phrase _wrap your mind around_ several times, and I believe that I have gathered the definition of the term to mean simple comprehension of a concept. Some humans perceive their thoughts to have a flow, an internal movement, and experience a disruption in this flow when they encounter subjects of which they have little understanding. This is the first time that I have understood a metaphor independently to learning it. 

Kenneth cannot wrap his mind around multi-dimensional string theory. I attempted to explain to him that the electrons and quarks within an atom are one-dimensional lines, the dimension of length and not height. I stated to him that this was the essential proponent in understanding the out-dated human theory. This theory was meant to posit that the strings vibrate at ultra rapid frequencies, giving an atom their mass, flavor, and spin. The theory itself was meant to explain all four forces of universal constants: gravity, electromagnetism, the weak, and strong nuclear forces. 

He did understand this part, and so I broke it down in a simpler form. _An electron is a point._ That would be a scientific statement. String theory attempts to look at an atom at a microscopic level, and finds an oscillating circle, or string, instead of a point. Whichever way the string oscillates, manifests itself in the atom's structure. A proton, a quark, or an electron. Strings are able to break into smaller strings, or larger strings. If two strings combine in a certain way, it could explain the G-force. String theory makes a prediction that the dimensions of space are greater than originally thought. In essence, it was a theory of _everything_. 

At this, Kenneth looked up at me sharply and moved his hands near the edge of the chair. I believe that his responses were indicative of understanding. "It is only a theory," he said. 

He thanked me, and he put his hand on my shoulder. I could do nothing but stare at it. I do not know the significance of such an action, but I repeated it out of curiosity. I believe he found this to be amusing, because he laughed before he left. Physical contact puzzles me. I am often unsure what casual touching is, or how to distinguish it from intimate touching-that which is done between adult humanoid mates, and which is unacceptable in any other context. 

I do not understand intimacy in any form. Until four days ago, I did not even understand the proper method for greeting humans. I of course know what a handshake is, but I have often been told that mine are not typical, thus I have ceased performing them. Taurik taught me a method of determining an acceptable handshake four days ago. This was after I asked him how Vulcans convey their sentiments via touch. He told me that Vulcans generally did not, and that they used the _ta'al_ , the Vulcan salute, in its stead. He informed me that humans used handshakes, instead of the _ta'al_ , and did so when they were greeting or parting from one another. 

I asked him why he would teach me this. I am aware of the reticence that Vulcans carry toward physical contact, especially with their hands, and he had told me that he did not expect there to be psionic interference from myself. As that is the main reason why Vulcans do not touch others, I agreed. As we stood across from one another, he asked me why I had been concerned with his welfare. I did not know. "We are friends," was the only answer that was adequate to describe my thought process. It was necessary to preserve the well-being of your friends, was it not? There are countless stories in the computer data bank about companionship, altruism, _the needs of the many_ , saving a life. Good is preferable to bad. Suffering is bad. Should one not seek to minimize the suffering of their friends? 

Taurik inclined his head and reached his hand out toward me. I stared at it. I did not wish to demonstrate my inferior, perhaps even painful version to him. He told me to raise my hand and clasp it in his, and to keep the contact for a period of three seconds. He stated that Humans often relied upon _gut instincts_ in these manners, but that since I possessed no such instinct, he had determined a precise time which would convey a medium between over attachment, _creepiness_ (a factor indicative of the level of predatory, abusive behavior one exudes), friendliness, or aloofness. 

Three seconds, he postulated, was the right amount of time to convey professionalism and friendliness, without overbearing eeriness. I was hesitant to do so, but I grabbed his hand. He winced in pain, as I had applied too much pressure even by Vulcan standards, and I loosened my grip until he told me to stop. How _firm_ or limp one's handshake was also accounted for social status, evidently. I counted for three seconds, and then let go. The activity clearly surprised him. I was unsure why. 

"You have a presence," he elucidated to me. I did not know to what presence he was referring. I simply told him that I was there, and that I existed. He shook his head. He was emotionally affected. He told me that I had a clear mental presence. He could not feel emotions, but he could feel a sub-emotional context that was the sum of the desires that I expressed. This thread was what allowed me to experience desires at all. It was, "emotional emptiness, with a curious golden thread," he stated. It was sentience developed simply out of living. This thread was my mind. 

I asked him if he believed that I had a _katra_ , the Vulcan term for the synaptic pattern that often translates to _soul_ , and he assumed an action that I have come to learn is the equivalent of a Vulcan shrug. A raising and lowering of his right shoulder infinitesimally, tilting his head and furrowing his eyebrows slightly. He told me that he did not know if I possessed a _katra_ , or if I possessed a human soul, but he was certain on one thing. 

The possibility was open. 

[ _End Recording_ ]


	6. 2341.88

_Personal log. Stardate 2341.88._

[ _Begin Recording_ ] 

My studies are progressing rapidly. Starfleet Command anticipates that I should complete the schooling program in less than four years. I have received honors in all of my chosen fields of study. I have experienced a wide variety of events since my admission to the Academy. There are those who still view me as an anomaly, or a piece of equipment, but I am beginning to be treated with respect. I am growing comfortable with the daily routines of interaction between what is an apparent circle of friends, which I have unintentionally seem to have adopted. 

I have gotten better at handshakes. I have practiced with Taurik, who continues to be fascinated by my presence of mind. For some reason that I am unable to determine, he has not been deterred from the activity despite Vulcan etiquette. I no longer apply bruising pressure, and I am able to simulate the action in the most natural way that I am possibly able. Taurik has taken to greeting me with a handshake, raising his eyebrow in an expression of amusement at each time. 

I have come to learn that this amusement is not directed toward me, as it is consistently present within him; an aspect of his _personality_ that he displays unconsciously around those he trusts. It is an interesting notion, to know that Taurik trusts me. Perhaps it is because I am an android, and am unable to point out the fault in his perceived illogic. Perhaps he feels emotionally secure in trusting me, due to my inability to betray that trust. 

Taurik lives in the Operations building, a section of the academy that caters to Operations, Engineering, Tactical, and Security students. There, they are given quarters to reside in. I am an Operations student, and so I reside in the same residence that Taurik does. Kenneth resides in the Sciences building. 

Alyssa, being in Sciences track, should be present in the Sciences building as well, but that she is not is due to a Starfleet decision to move her here. She has told me that Starfleet Academy wished for her to be my roommate due to her open mindedness about other life forms. Her maturity, they had said, allowed for her to be the choice candidate. I believe Starfleet wishes for me to experience the novelty of living with another human, and I suspect that it is due to the nature of living on a starship itself. They wished for me to learn the basics of human interaction, so that I may integrate fully into a star ship, should I be assigned to one. Starfleet Command says that my assets far outweigh my limitations, and that they plan for me to serve when I have completed my studies. 

When Alyssa returned to our shared quarters after a lengthy excursion with the Medical tour to the Daystrom Institute, I shook her hand in greeting. I believe the action utterly shocked her, for she blinked rapidly several times and stared at our joined hands. 

She perhaps stared at them as though something _unusual and fungal were growing out of them_. That is a simile. They are significantly more difficult for me to understand. I am able to apply basic similes in conversation, but they are mostly scientific. That is my first attempt at using a creative simile. As this is within the confines of my personal log, I am unsure if I have _hit the mark_. Another metaphor. To _hit the mark_ is to correctly portray a concept or idea. I believe it is related to target shooting. When one has hit their mark, they have precisely landed the projectile into the center of the target post. 

When Alyssa ceased to display her symptoms of shock, she smiled at me and followed through with the action that I had been accustomed to. She grabbed my other hand with her free hand and told me that it was very nice to see me again. I was confused. 

The expression that comes naturally to me is a tilting of my head, which indicates this state. I believe it was written into my program to be able to convey to others my mental status. I assume that in my infancy, I was confused by many things. If I were unable to convey this aside from my wording, I would not have been able to allow Dr. Soong to understand my confusion. My visual expression was designed to develop faster than my verbal communication. I am able to tilt my head in confusion, and to raise and lower my eyebrows, as well as nod my head in agreement. These are the only natural expressions that I have, and I do not require precise thought regarding them. 

My confusion was alleviated when Alyssa explained to me that friends who have parted will often miss one another, a concept that I am beginning to understand with more accuracy. She states that she has missed me, and thus displays a higher level of affection upon my return. 

When Taurik was helping me to learn the complicated greeting, I asked him if there were differing levels of friendship. He told me that there were 'passing acquaintances,' 'friends,' 'good friends,' 'best friends,' 'lovers,' 'bonded mates,' and 'casual partners.' I found all of this to be extremely fascinating. I assume that by _bonded mates_ , he was referring to Vulcan intimacy and not human. He also appeared to be distasteful of the term _casual partners_. I assume this to be because of the extremely monogamous nature of Vulcans. He also told me that for different levels of friendship, there were different standards of accepted physical intimacy. 

Handshakes were acceptable at all levels of friendship, but a hug would not be acceptable to a passing acquaintance. A hug would be accepted by a friend, or higher. He told me that humans in some cultures will often kiss one another by way of greeting. He says that in the Earth United Americas culture, that contact would be unacceptable by anyone other than a casual partner, lover, or bonded mate.

I asked him what level of friendship that he believed we had, and he said that he viewed us as good friends. I tilted my head, and then I attempted to hug him, applying as much pressure as I had been taught with the handshake. I appear to have made a mistake at that juncture. Taurik stiffened and abruptly pulled away, staring at me intently. 

"Why did you do that?" was the question he asked, and his voice was indicative of an emotional response. 

The only answer that I could give him was that he told me that good friends were allowed to hug one another, and I have never experienced the phenomenon of a hug. I wished to experience such a thing, given how prominent it is within humanoid cultures. Slowly, Taurik came to stand in front of me. He appeared to have as little knowledge of these events as I had. He placed his hands on my shoulders first, a complicated expression on his face which I was unable to parse. At last, he circled his arms around me in an approximation of what I assume he has seen other humans do, but which I doubt he has personally experienced many times in his life. 

I brought my hands up to reciprocate the action, and we stood like that for long moments. It occurred to me that Taurik was willing to accept me. Every nuance, every detail, every failing that I possessed. He viewed me as a being. Alive, functional, capable, intelligent, insightful. I had never before had the experience of being valued for what I was, not merely in spite of my difficulties. He stepped back, and his hands were still on my shoulders. 

"I view you as a fine friend, Data. You have taught me much. I value our time spent together." His face was still in the calm state it usually portrayed, but his eyebrows were knitted vaguely in the center of his forehead. We stepped back from one another. He raised his hand in the _ta'al_. "I shall always be your friend, should you call upon me."

He walked away. 

My interactions with Alyssa and her friends are not the same as my interactions with Taurik. It is rare that I find myself without an ability to describe something; a personal thought process, or my environment. However, I am unable to elaborate any further on why I believe this is so; only that I can sense that it is the truth. Perhaps it is as he has stated; we are _close friends_ , but Alyssa and Kenneth are only _friends_. The difference, at this juncture, escapes me. 

Nevertheless, I feel (I do not, but for humans, this is another word for _believe_ or _think_ ) that with our interactions, I am growing closer to humanity. 

[ _End Recording_ ]


	7. 2342.15

_Personal log. Stardate 2342.15._

[ _Begin Recording_ ] 

It has been one year, one day, three hours and five minutes since my arrival at Starfleet Academy. I am able to calculate the precise amount of seconds, nanoseconds, and femtoseconds since this time, but I have been told repeatedly that this is a level of specification that is daunting to those around me. In the privacy of my personal logs, there are no others to cater to, but I am attempting to adopt these modified behaviors on every level in order to better display them in front of others. This has been an ongoing effort on my part to achieve a more fluid and natural form of communication. 

These problems are a continuing issue in my verbal communication. I am a very _quick student_ , which means that I am able to understand and apply information given to me at a rate that far exceeds the average, but I am still unable to apply the correct amount of specification to my phrasing. I often, to use another human metaphor, _overkill_ my level of presented verbal information. If I am not _over killing_ it, then I am instead extremely sparse, as a result of my efforts to compensate. 

I have known others in similar situations who have been unable to grasp conceptual material presented to them, and they have been immensely frustrated by it. I cannot feel frustration, but this would be a set of circumstances that would illicit the emotion in me, were I able to exhibit it as such. 

Today is a Wednesday, a predetermined time of the week that has been set aside by all three of my friends to play the game I have previously defined as _poker_. 

Since observing their behaviors closely, I have been partially successful in ascertaining whether or not Alyssa or Taurik are bluffing. I have not been as skilled with Kenneth, who continues to confound me. Kenneth does not conform to what I have learned are the key expressions to bluffing. Perhaps this is because I have not spent as much time observing and analyzing him as I have Taurik and Alyssa. Privately, Taurik has informed me that he believes that I _like_ Kenneth less than I _like_ Alyssa and himself. He states that this is the reason why I am not able to understand his pattern of bluffing-I simply observe him less than I do my other two friends. 

This has puzzled me for quite some time, as I am unaware of any higher attachment to any person over another. Upon intense reflection, I admittedly realize that this view of my interpersonal relationships may not be entirely accurate. I have never hugged Kenneth. I have never affected him emotionally, as I have Alyssa. I do not anticipate our communications as much as I do with Taurik. I do not believe that he views me as a _good friend_. I have been able to independently classify our relationship as _acquaintances_. Perhaps this is what Taurik means when he tells me that I am closer to certain individuals than I am to others. Despite my lack of emotion, I am able to determine that my bonds to Taurik and Alyssa are significant. I treat them differently than I treat others. 

Nevertheless, even though I am unable to _read_ Kenneth as well as I am able to _read_ Taurik and Alyssa, I am still able to win significantly higher amounts of hands than when I was first introduced to the pastime. The vernacular _to read_ a person is consistent with previous similar metaphors that I have used which allude to understanding. It is not enjoyable for me to play-though I understand that is the general purpose of gaming-however, I find that I anticipate Wednesday evenings simply due to the fact that the level of interaction with my friends is higher on that day than on any other. 

Alyssa had told me that this particular Wednesday is a _special_ day. I was unable to estimate why this Wednesday was different than any other. Upon asking her, she stated that I would have to, "wait and see, it is meant to be a surprise." I have found that I do not fare well with the nature of surprises. When they are presented to me, I am often confused and left wondering what has precisely occurred. The only assurance that I could gather from my knowledge of Alyssa was that she was aware of these things. I had thought that perhaps she would be able to integrate this surprise into my awareness in a way that I am capable of comprehending. 

I was correct. When I sat down at the table in Taurik's quarters, I understood immediately that there was something different about the environment. Something was present that I had not identified in the past. Alyssa appeared to be _excited_ , a human emotional response to the anticipation of a favored event. Taurik appeared to be amused-a state he appears in more often than not. I did not think that I had misunderstood his expression, but I was unable to determine why this was so. Kenneth was not present, another oddity. 

The difference to the environment was in the center of the poker table, which was unusually devoid of the normal gaming components. In their stead was a large cake. I tilted my head, and Taurik lifted the cover off of it in response to my confusion. This action did nothing to alleviate it. Finally, Alyssa told me what the purpose of the item was. 

"It's your first anniversary as a Starfleet cadet!" 

I was baffled. "An anniversary: a date which commemorates a specific event with an emotional attachment." Often, this method of defining a particular term that I do not fully understand as applied to a situation, is able to help me to form a proper association. At this time, the method was unhelpful in doing so. 

Alyssa, however, looked pleased at my definition. "Yes, Data. That is precisely it." 

Taurik eyed the cake pointedly. "I believe that it is a human custom to consume cake in celebratory times. As we are your friends, we understand your inability to properly form an emotional attachment to any specific date, thus rendering an anniversary for your sole benefit void. However, Alyssa and myself are both able to achieve such attachments. It is not only your anniversary as a Starfleet cadet, but it is also of our meeting you. As you are the cause of the positive emotion, it was prudent to include you. It would be inaccurate to state that you would not benefit from being present, even if you are unable to feel." 

I spent some moments in contemplation. I could not form an emotional attachment to this day, but I knew that I had formed an attachment, in whatever form I was able, to these two individuals. Taurik's words brought understanding to a concept I had previously dismissed as irrelevant. They wished for me to participate in an event that they had engineered out of their own emotional nature, due to the fact that this event revolved singularly around myself. They have never excluded me from events because of a preconceived idea that I simply do not care, or understand. They seek to allow me to understand, and through this, form a conclusion of benevolence or malevolence. 

I wished to demonstrate to them that I understood their kindness. In a way, it reminded me of my very reason for joining Starfleet to begin with. As an expression of my understanding of the emotion of gratitude. I could not experience it, but I wished to show it. Without conscious volition, my face generally appears passive, but I am able to move each fiber at will. Thus, I smiled. It physically felt quite strange, but not as unnatural as I originally assumed it would be. No more unnatural than any other movement, although I am certain it did not _appear_ natural. 

Taurik raised his eyebrows. "You are happy?" I could detect an emotion in his voice, one I haven't heard before and could not name. 

"No," I said, my features returning to normal. "But I wish to be." 

_"Courage! What makes a king out of a slave? Courage! What makes the flag on the mast to wave? Courage! What makes the elephant charge his tusk in the misty mist, or the dusky dusk? What makes the muskrat guard his musk? Courage! What makes the sphinx the seventh wonder? Courage! What makes the dawn come up like thunder? Courage!", the Lion said, triumphantly._

_The Wizard spoke. "As for you, my galvanized friend, you want a heart. You don't know how lucky you are not to have one. Hearts will never be practical until they can be made unbreakable."_

_"But I still want one."_

My response reminds me of the passage. It is from an ancient book titled _The Wizard of Oz_. It is a book that Alyssa states I read because I am able to relate to one of the main characters. I thought of the Tin Man and his struggle to achieve emotion, and knew that she was correct. I do not read this book often, because it is a tale for children that imparts the morality that _what one wishes for, one may find that one already possesses_ , which does not reflect my reality. I do not read this book often because it embodies an aspect of sentience that is unfavorable to me. The illogic of wanting, especially that which I will never receive. 

I will never have a heart. Not in the physical, nor metaphorical definitions of the term. But I still want one. 

[ _End Recording_ ]


	8. 2342.274

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i. the night club scene is cursed and i regret everything. soo i replaced it with this, a new update after 10 whole yearz  
> ii. data was programmed with all the colonists memories, so he wouldve known who soong and lore were  
> iii. this means datalore will look different in this story

_Personal log. Stardate 2342.274._

[ _Begin Recording_ ] 

One aspect of civilization that has always been of great importance for me to comprehend is the artistic. There are many forms of art, because by its nature, it is not limited to a standard definition. Anything and everything can be art, if it is perceived a certain way. I am unable to perceive things as art, nor do I understand the difference between perceiving a painting and perceiving an inanimate object. I know only that I lack the ability to pick out what falls under the category. 

The definition of _art_ itself, eludes me. I am able to perfectly replicate to the exact details many paintings by universally acclaimed painters, and yet my work is consistently labeled as lacking artistic quality altogether. 

Starfleet is not known for its arts education, so there are no professors here whom I could turn to for advice, and I am unfamiliar with most of the other cadets in my peer group beyond the perfunctory. Kenneth dabbles in portraiture in his spare time. While I am not as close to him as I am to my roommate and Taurik, potentially benefiting from his wisdom in this arena outweighs the peculiar unease I associate to interacting with him. 

"You have to be able to _feel_ what the other person is trying to say," he says to me, gesturing his hands. 

Gesturing is another element I was programmed without, and when I speak, unless I am pointing out something specific to you, my hands remain motionless by my side. I have tried and failed to emulate this custom, as it is unique to the individual, and I am told my attempts were frenetic, almost violent-seeming. As I have no wish to be construed as a violent person, I abandoned this pursuit. 

"There should be some kind of message, ideally. Even if that message is just _I really like painting stupid dogs._ " 

My head tilts. "Query: _painting stupid dogs_?" 

"Uh," he replies, using a common English filler-cadets from North America often code-switch between Standard and English, especially as they hear their native language fairly consistently in San Francisco. This is also a phenomenon I have attempted to replicate in my own language, along with using contractions. Unfortunately, I seem unable to translate my internal processes to language that includes those elements naturally. I am able to make sounds that approximate these aspects-such as being able to state in my personal log _what_ noise Kenneth used-but including them into a fluent sentence continues to be a struggle. 

There is no logical reason why this is so, thus I am forced to conclude that it is a matter of my programming. Perhaps Dr. Soong did not wish me to _sound_ human, as well as _feel_ human. He had, after all, failed in his experiment with Lore, and it is reasonable to conclude that he would be unwilling to supply me with similar traits when they had resulted in suffering prior. Without my earliest memories, I have no way to know what Dr. Soong intended, as I have no recollection of ever meeting him. 

"I just mean," Kenneth continues, "even if the only point of the art is that the person doing it liked to do it. Otherwise it's just like looking at a photograph of the _Mona Lisa_. We already know she's beautiful, you know?" 

"I am afraid that I do not," is the only answer I can give him. 

It continues to puzzle me hours later. When I first discovered the concept of painting, I had thought it was a pursuit of skill. Of technical mastery. But in my interactions with humans, I am learning that this is not so. To be a _good_ painter, you need to be proficient. To be a _great_ painter, you must be evocative. This is the element of creativity that I struggle with, but as Taurik has reminded me on more than one occasion, my impulse to create is fundamentally rooted in a search for meaning, which is one of the most basic human desires of all. 

I do not know if I agree. I cannot always quantify my internal processes. It would be more logical to presume that I was simply programmed to seek out new tasks, as nothing more than a menial servant, and my exposure to humanoid life forms aboard the USS _Tripoli_ caused me to redirect my focus toward my rescuers. Much like a child who did not know better, I believed that if I emulated them, they would approve and I would not be made to exist as I had been. Perhaps there is nothing truly _alive_ within me at all. 

"Maybe you should try just painting something abstract. Don't focus so hard on painting objects, and recreating shit. Just close your eyes and try to imagine something that has never been seen before." 

The statement is curious, and I find myself returning to it again and again throughout the remainder of my school day. When I arrive in Alyssa and I's shared quarters, I complete several hours of coursework before retreating to my room and contemplating this, my latest personal log. 

I close my eyes. I do not see anything at all. 

[ _End Recording_ ]


	9. 2344.01

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [i.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EQ_Evp2DWzo) lost in las vegas, two steps from hell  
> [ii.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=so10dKbhorI) storming new caprica, "vulcan composer" bear mccreary

_Personal log. Stardate 2341.01._

[ _Begin Recording_ ] 

Last night, I attended a venue known as a _night club_ with Kenneth Gionis, entitled _Club Alpha_. 

It was his intention that I were to act as his _wingman_ , a task with which I was unfamiliar and resultingly inept at. It did, however, introduce me to the phenomenon of _music_. I have encountered it in my studies and my databanks are filled with the knowledge of several thousand composers across the Alpha and Beta quadrants, but I have never experienced it in this form. Whilst I spent a majority of my time seated stationary in one area, I was able to observe the humanoids dancing _en masse_ to song. 

The idea of music is intriguing to me. Most humanoids have some form of music within their culture, and appreciation of music is entirely individual, much like art. In an effort to understand what cultivates musical appreciation, I have endeavored to speak with Taurik, but his advice-ordinarily rooted in comprehension of my circumstances-is limited in its helpfulness. 

He claims that I should, "listen to a variety of works, and determine which is most aurally stimulating." Yet, I have done so, with over 150 musical compositions, and cannot determine from one piece to the next which is more or less _aurally stimulating_. Despite his attachment to logic, he does on occasion slip into the _general_ , the unspecific, the qualiatic. 

So instead, I seek to conduct a survey of a more personalized fashion. After all, music is entirely attributable to the temporal lobe of the humanoid brain. In accordance with complicated harmonic rhythms, chemicals such as epinephrine, serotonin and dopamine are released, which cause a pleasurable sensation within the humanoid. As I do not possess a humanoid brain, I must wonder if it is possible for me to enjoy music, or even to identify that something _is_ music; a task which I have already attempted, with little results. 

It stands to reason that each individual human will have different criterion for enjoying the music they do, and this will help me to identify such criteria within my own quest for musical appreciation. I seek out Taurik first, as he is already familiar with my goal. 

He sends me two files, one containing an instrumental piece written by an ancient Earth composer named Thomas Bergerson, and explains that he enjoys it because it melds _whimsicality_ with precision and a form of "sudden, inescapable ferocity; a piece of art deceptive in its joyfulness." And another by a Vulcan named Alaris, stating that it is reminiscent of his teenagehood studying the war drums, and that it hearkens back to memories of his service in the _V'Shar_ , Vulcan's Special Intelligence Operations group. 

To momentarily break from my current topic, this is a piece of information about Taurik that I was previously unaware, and judging by my meeting of other former and current intelligence officers, one that I would not have estimated to be true in regards to his idiosyncratically playful demeanor. 

When I brought this to his attention, he merely quirked an eyebrow at me and told me that a lifetime of data had implanted within him an "ephemeral need for lightheartedness, to counterbalance the darkness that looms in personhood's secret corners." There is much about this that I do not fully understand; Taurik frequently lapses into metaphorical-one might even say _poetic_ -language. However, I have no reason to doubt the veracity of his claims.

I cannot explain it, but I believe that were Taurik to face an immediate threat of some form, he would be able to competently dispatch of it. Perhaps this is reminiscent of the _gut instinct_ frequently referenced by my peers. 

According to Taurik's interpretations, it appears that "good" music should evoke some form of memory, or emotion, within the participating listener. Perhaps this is why I struggle to identify pieces of music that are meaningful to me. I did not have a childhood, nor was music a present factor in my earliest activated years. This is yet another artistic pursuit that eludes me, and like painting, I estimate that I would not be capable of producing a piece of music that evoked such emotions within its own listening group. Nevertheless, there remains a desire within me to attempt it. 

My experience at _Club Alpha_ was informative, if somewhat concerning-the manner in which the other humanoids treated me was akin to a phenomenon Alyssa has once described as _objectifying_. I was repeatedly touched and spoken to with little regard. And yet, simultaneously, I was able to observe a level of _happiness_ within the other clubgoers, that is not ordinarily present in our classes and Academy curriculars. 

I failed at my task as _wingman_ , but I have discovered something new, and worthwhile to pursue. An avenue of art, much like painting.

[ _End Recording_ ]


	10. 2344.100

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i. the original data entered sf in 2344, future!verse data enters in 2341, almost immediately after activation  
> [ii](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hcj7dVA8Mr8). science, two steps from hell

_Personal log. Stardate 2344.100._

[ _Begin Recording_ ] 

When I was first activated on Omicron Theta, I was told that I was an android. Little more than an automaton constructed in the _shape_ of a man. I found this difficult to accept. Instead, I chose to believe that I was a person. 

There is no logical explanation for this belief. There is nothing within my programming which suggests the necessity for holding such a belief. There was no one to guide me, to explain to me why this belief was- _is_ -important. In fact, many of my formative experiences with humanoids directly contradicted it. I have been told I am less than a _person_ on more than one occasion. Whilst I do not possess the capacity to be offended on behalf of my "past-self" (a figurative terminology frequently applied by humanoids, depicting their sense of linear time)-intellectually, I find the concept disagreeable. 

At the hearing designated to determine whether or not it was acceptable for me to enter Starfleet Academy, it was pointed out on multiple occasions-particularly by Ariel Leverson-the commanding officer of the _Tripoli_ -that it would be "foolish to ignore what is obviously an exceptional level of sentience merely because it presents differently to your customs," and that "failing to honor Data's sentience would set an exceptionally dangerous precedent with regard to all inorganic life-forms, potentially paving the way for 24th-century slavery in the Federation." 

At the time, I failed to comprehend why Captain Leverson himself took up the mantle of my defender-during my tenure aboard the _Tripoli_ he often came across as brash, perhaps even overtly hostile, and as an individual with less-than perfect emotional comprehension I initially viewed his attitude toward me as antagonistic, much in the way children do not often understand the attitudes of their caregivers toward them, and may perceive any negative intention as being a direct result of their own actions. 

Nevertheless, he has turned out to be one of my most formidable advocates. After studying more of human history, I believe I have begun to grasp the nuances of his position, which have less to do with my _self_ and more his intergenerational narrative. He has explained to me that while he can trace his family history back to the early 1930s, unlike many of his compatriots, on both sides, it comes to an abrupt end during the Earth's second world war. His home, the Mediterranean country of Israel, banned genetic modification within its borders and began working on counteractive technology in seclusion in the early 1990s-a foresight which ultimately provided many with safe shelter in the ensuing destruction of the Eugenics Wars. 

This is a foresight I have since learned _matters_ a great deal, even three hundred years later. Human history, I am told, is repetitive. Especially when the survivors of destruction pass away, leaving nothing but written records of legacy which are then regarded dispassionately by their descendants. 

When I asked him about this, he laughed (an expression of nerves, rather than humor, I have come to realize) but concurred that my assessment was likely accurate, and was an assessment that not even the most "astute of human beings take into consideration." 

As a not-particularly _astute_ non-human being, I expect that there are undertones to his statements that I am failing to grasp, but I believe it has something to do with one's placement in society, within their own culture and with respect to the cultures of those around them, and how those two objects intersect with one another when one culture is dominant over another, and may even look down on them. In this, I believe Captain Leverson sees such an opportunity within myself; a type of _repetition_ that makes him uncomfortable, and that he has risen up against in retaliation. 

Indeed, I have observed Captain Leverson's regard to those whom he considers _marginalized_ on more than one occasion. As a diplomat, he was the acting prosecutor in the Garana IV trials, and delivered what I can only presume to be an impactful statement, judging by the court's unanimous decision to indict Proconsul Avina on all counts. As the only _living_ member of my kind, it would appear that I also fall under that designation. This is a method of thinking that is alien to me-the concept that I, because of my differences-may even be _harmed_ by aspects of the majority of those around me, who either cannot, or refuse to, comprehend them. 

Much like the idea of being regarded as non-sentient, I find this concept objectionable on a multitude of levels. I cannot explain _why_ I have an ethical framework. I was not programmed with one, but it has grown out of time and experience, and continues to grow and modify with the passing of both. While apologetic for his initial impression toward me, Captain Leverson has stressed the _importance_ that I consider my own self, and personhood, to be absolute and inviolable. Not to allow those who would deny me that status, the ability to impact my own conception of myself. 

While I do not fully comprehend this, I must agree that it is relevant to my experiences as a cadet and as an individual. I have not been the subject of specified physical harm, but I have been exposed to behavior I would classify as _bullying_ over the past three years. Hazing, razzing, teasing, tormenting-all adjectives intended by their aggressors to be _playful_ and _joking_ -but it has been my observation that laughter _at_ a subject often denotes unkindness, an intent to harm an individual's mind rather than their body. While I do not have emotions, I do have a _self_. A mind, if you will. 

As I object to any _living_ person being harmed by others without suitable provocation- and as I regard myself as a living being-I must also object to my own ill-treatment on that basis. 

Today is the day that I graduate from Starfleet Academy, and begin my tenure aboard the USS _Trieste_ as a generalized Operations officer of Lieutenant Junior Grade. I have graduated one year earlier than Alyssa and Taurik, and am one rank above what they shall be assigned when they do graduate, a promotion that was bestowed upon me due to my excellence in retaining and applying Starfleet rules and regulations. It is on this day of graduation that I cannot help but return to an oft-posed question within my neural net: 

What does it mean to be a _person_? 

I chose my own name, a moniker I believed suitable at the time, which represents _what_ I am, if not _who_ I am. The latter is a question I still struggle with. I chose a gender, the one which correlates to how I appear, _male_ -even though I do not quite understand what it means to _be_ male-on the human spectrum of gender it may be more accurate to conclude I am agender, or non-binary. 

This is an identification that I have observed in other cadets in my cadre; those whom appear to be _biologically_ -though I use this term tentatively as I have been instructed that it is often used pejoratively amongst transgender students-male or female, yet mentally, categorically, do not belong to either gender. 

While I cannot explicitly comprehend _gender_ as a whole, perhaps this and of itself _is_ a form of identity. Gender, as I have observed, relates to how one acts within the world, how one is outwardly perceived to be part of the grouping of individuals based upon outward sexual markers. In humans, this often has peculiar results. For instance, females tend to experience a far higher degree of micro-aggressions against them, and must remain demure and maternal-while males may be subtly nudged toward violence and lack of expressionism. 

Nevertheless, while I have grown accustomed to being referred to as such, and do not experience significant distress at this lack of clarity by others-I must admit to appreciating those who instinctively grasp it, such as Alyssa and Taurik. Gender itself relates, though not exclusively, to _sex_ and sexual discourse. As an android, I was programmed with _full-functionality_. That is, I possess a Terran male penis and testes, as well as a prostate, lack of mammary glands, and an approximation for additional hirsutism: that is, I can grow facial hair, and possess more hair upon my arms and legs than that of a Terran female. 

From what I can gather, humans place a great degree of value upon not only their minds, but their bodies as well. One's body is one's _temple_ -a word given to me by Alyssa, meaning that one's body must be considered as though it is one's own property. One must care for it the same way, and those who harm another person's body are considered to be adversarial. Everything has a purpose, but also a _meaning_ -this meaning I have yet to fully grasp.

In the six years I have been activated, I have never had an experience I would term _sexual_ ; though I have had untoward remarks made against me, and even suggestions that I be solely utilized for explicit purposes. These remarks, I have concluded, are unfavorable. They are objectifying, and dismiss my sentience entirely. I do not believe I would appreciate that experience. I would not, and did not, consent to such behavior against me. The topic of _consent_ is one that I learned very early on, as it relates to another's body. One must never initiate contact of an intimate nature without garnering _consent_ -and I have concluded that this also applies to intimate remarks, such as the ones leveled against me. 

I have, however, had two experiences I would label _intimate_ , if-not sexual. Cadet Taurik allowed me to hug him, once he determined my intent was not adversarial. He has also taken to greeting me and departing from me with a handshake, a custom that would ordinarily-in Vulcan culture-be construed as intimate. The _el'ru es'ta_ , the touching of hands, is considered on Vulcan terms to be similar to that of a _kiss_ , though I have never had this experience. It is something that has now grown into a comfort. I anticipate it, and have grown accustomed to this contact. It is my hope that Taurik views these experiences similarly.

Taurik has sent me another musical gift, a final farewell, in what he claims _represents very well the manner in which you are regarded by those of us who are pleased to call you friend._ Thus, I am to believe Taurik has selected this musical composition because it reminds him of myself. While I am unable to indulge in musical preferences solidified by childhood experiences or emotional resonance, it would appear that I do indeed have a burgeoning musical history of my own. It is this which continues to fuel my endeavor to appreciate music, an endeavor that I do not believe will cease once I am no longer in formal communication with Taurik. 

Perhaps, to _be_ a person, is to consistently strive to be better than one's _self_. To strive to be more than one's programming, to be more than the sum total of one's experiences. In this, I believe I share with humanity.

[ _End Recording_ ]


	11. 2344.114

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [i](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z925Fr4dkVA). heart-shaped box, ramin djawadi  
> [ii](https://behavenet.com/diagnostic-criteria-3017-antisocial-personality-disorder). dsm-IV criteria aspd

_Personal log. Stardate 2344.114._

[ _Begin Recording_ ] 

Today's _musical gift_ comes with a curious _self-portrait_ , as other cadets in my cadre termed-a _selfie_ of himself in his senior grade uniform with the biodome of Mars illuminating the background, red stretches of desert sand roaming miles in the distance outside the large windows. He is holding his hand up in a Terran gesture, a symbol of _peace_ , looking somewhat stymied, one eyebrow raised infinitesimally. Knowing Taurik, such a picture must have been at the behest of one of his Terran companions. 

While I am no longer in physical communication with Taurik, as I had perceived initially, we have remained in correspondence throughout our personal commlinks, which affords both video, audio and textual forms of address. Taurik has stated this is not _as adequate_ as real-time, face-to-face speaking, but I have yet to determine the difference. As I can both see and hear him, and we frequently exchange our _musical gifts_ along with periodic updates on our respective works, and duties-it would seem to be perfectly adequate to convey the meaning that would be otherwise reserved for in-person delivery. 

As an android, I do not perceive _time_ the same as other humanoids. While I comprehend that time in our universe largely moves on a linear scale to the form of entropic decay-as my physics professor sh'Lathraas has explained-a cup is exceedingly more likely to fall off of a table than it is to spontaneously pick itself up and repair the pieces-my own perception of _time_ is that of a spherical, encompassing nature. I cannot perceive the past, nor the future, but unlike many humanoids, both the past and the future remain in consistent harmony with the present, affected by every action within each. 

The one aspect of textual communication that cannot be replicated, that I have potentially termed _lacking_ , is that we are no longer capable of our traditional greeting and departure rituals. We cannot shake hands, nor physically touch in any manner. I had not anticipated this to be a significant difference in our daily routine, but my neural circuits are somewhat indisposed by this change in daily conduction. I expect that this shift within myself will ease as time continues to progress on a forward-linear pathway. 

This is my 14th day aboard the USS _Trieste_ in my position as Operations officer. As a rule, Operations officers are assigned in pairs. Our duties are basic: we take orders on our clipboards and disseminate them throughout various departments, serving as the sentient interlink between various groups aboard the ship. For example, if engineering requires components, they will seek out the Operations officer and through that process, we will provide them with the necessary materiel. As I am also trained in astrometrics, it is my hope to be posted aboard the Operations station of a starship once my training period is complete. 

My partner is Ensign Marigold Keahi, a native Hawaiian from Earth's North American continent. 

Ensign Keahi possesses a neurodivergence-that is, a divergence from what is considered standard neurological form for an adult human-known as autism. Autistic individuals can present in a number of complex ways, with some nearly indistinguishable from their neurotypical counterparts, and others less so. Some autistic individuals struggle with socialization, some with verbalization, some with sensory overwhelm and many with a combination of all three. As far as has been explained to me, many autistic people experience the world around them in bright, vivid ways, that can easily lead to the emotions of anxiety, frustration and confusion. 

Marigold is quite visibly autistic. She does not communicate verbally. As she has explained to me, verbal language is too finite, too limited, to fully transcribe her thoughts. This is a phenomenon with which I am immediately familiar. Instead, Ensign Keahi utilizes both Federation Standard Signed Language (a language with which I am fluent), as well as a personal dataPADD linked to a small cortical monitor seated just below her ears, which helps to translate her thoughts into appropriate spoken word. While some would consider these differences to be a handicap, aboard a starship with thousands of variations of existence, it is nowhere near the most unusual thing I have encountered. She is simply a unique life-form, as all individuals are, but perhaps moreso within context of her species' norms. 

I find that valuable, and-I must admit-personally intriguing. 

Ensign Keahi has told me that in autistic individuals, something known as _cognitive empathy_ may not develop properly. They may look at an individual who is sad, and not recognize that they are sad. Thus, they make errors in communication that lead the sad individual to believe the autistic individual does not care, or is acting coldly toward them. They may hear of someone's death and not know the correct response, or may make inappropriate jokes as they do not recognize the grief around them. 

" _In some cases,_ " the ethereal voice of her dataPADD recites, as her fingers subtly form over the words. I follow both. " _I am autistic, but I can recognize when people are happy or sad. I know that _I am sorry for your loss_ is the expected response. I know not to run naked through the halls, or tell a sexual joke to my superior officer. But often times, I believe that I do not _feel_ the same emotions as others. When I was a child, I actually entertained the idea that I was a sociopath. It is a silly thing to contemplate now, but it was a real worry for my past self!_" she smiles brightly at me as she speaks, and I tilt my head in an approximation of a response. 

"But you have since recognized that you are _not_ a sociopath?" I prompt, curiosity attaining the better portion of wisdom. 

" _Many autistic people go through the same phases. We do not realize that the profound sadness we do feel, is not translated correctly in our words and actions. What we lack, is cognitive empathy, but what many of us have an abundance of, is **affective** empathy. This is what makes us hurt when we see a friend burn themselves on the stove, or accidentally kick a cat, or realize that we have made our mother cry by being insensitive._" 

Marigold looks up at me, then, an expression that I have read on Taurik many times before flashing more discretely over her features: _intrigue_. " _Do you think that you have a form of affective empathy? When others hurt, do you hurt the same? Is that what compels you to act with ethical certitude?_ " Her words and phrasing are familiar to me; much in the way that Taurik's were. An easy, formal knowledge of the Federation Standard language, lacking metaphorical prose and littered with concrete examples, which allows me to better ascertain her meaning. 

I have never before considered the possibility that as I am a _sentient_ being, I could be an _empathetic_ being. As empathy is a direct conduit to humanoid emotions, it would seem logical that I do not possess empathy in any form. 

Yet, I have been programmed, at least in part, to minimize the harm to others that I cause. To value life in all its variations, rather than to view myself as superior merely due to my capabilities. While I may have the strength of ten human men, there are Gorn who have ten times the strength of me. It is false to conclude therefore that I am a superior being simply because I possess capabilities that only some individuals lack. But more than that, my moral framework prevents me from even considering others along these axes-the idea that one _must_ be superior, or be inferior. 

I do not wish to hurt others. I wish to help others. I wish to be a source of good, to act from within good-naturedness, and to do my very utmost to assist those who _have_ been harmed. When I see, or hear about transgressions against others, my neural circuits activate. I am reminded each time, of a quote by Ambassador Spock: _A sentient being's optimal chance at maximizing their utility is a long and prosperous life._ But more than that, a sentient being's _duty_ within their long and prosperous life, is to _maximize good_ that they bring into the universe. 

When one is harmed, indiscriminately, I feel a strong and immediate objection. 

Is it reasonable to conclude that this in and of itself qualifies as a primitive form of humanoid empathy? Or, as Captain Leverson has suggested on more than one basis, is it an entirely _new_ form of empathy, congruent with my entirely _new_ status as a sentient being? As I possess a form of sentience never-before encountered, is it _possible_ to conclude that I also experience a form of _empathy_ never-before encountered? 

The alternative, as Ensign Keahi has posed to me, is that I am functionally _sociopathic_ -an outdated term referring to humanoid antisocial personality disorder; of which the criteria are the following: 

_A. There is a pervasive pattern of disregard for and violation of the rights of others occurring since age 15 years, as indicated by three (or more) of the following:  
  
(1) failure to conform to social norms with respect to lawful behaviors as indicated by repeatedly performing acts that are grounds for arrest  
(2) deceitfulness, as indicated by repeated lying, use of aliases, or conning others for personal profit or pleasure  
(3) impulsivity or failure to plan ahead  
(4) irritability and aggressiveness, as indicated by repeated physical fights or assaults  
(5) reckless disregard for safety of self or others  
(6) consistent irresponsibility, as indicated by repeated failure to sustain consistent work behavior or honor financial obligations  
(7) lack of remorse, as indicated by being indifferent to or rationalizing having hurt, mistreated, or stolen from another  
B. The individual is at least age 18 years.  
  
C. There is evidence of Conduct Disorder with onset before age 15 years.  
  
D. The occurrence of antisocial behavior is not exclusively during the course of Schizophrenia or a Manic Episode._

In analyzing this set of criteria, I can conclude that I do not suffer from the affliction known colloquially as _sociopathy_. It is in my nature to respect the laws and codes of conduct of the society in which I find myself; that of the Federation. I can lie, and have lied, but not for malevolent purposes. I am not impulsive and I am able to plan ahead with more alacrity than almost all of my peers. I do not experience irritability or recklessness. I am responsible in regards to safety, both of myself and especially others. I am gainfully employed and have been for the past six years. 

Do I feel remorse? _Remorse_ : _Remorse is a distressing emotion experienced by an individual who regrets actions which they have done in the past that they deem to be shameful, hurtful, or wrong._ I do not experience distress, but I do understand the concept of regret, and when I have caused offense, I do experience this regret. Ergo, it may be, although not conclusively, determined that I experience a _form_ of remorse. 

I also do not meet the chronological age requirements. Starfleet has listed my chronological age as eight Standard years, however it has an addendum that concludes my age of maturity, to be an estimated psychological age of roughly 20-25 Standard years. While this makes sense, that those around me and under my command do not view me as an eight-year old child, this question appears to be asking whether or not the patient in question is comprehensive enough in their environment to truly understand the nuances of what is occurring around them-and in this, my chronological age may place bearing. There are many things to which I am still unaware, things that my compatriots find trivial and that they _take for granted_ , even. 

I am also free of any other humanoid mental illnesses. Thus, it is acceptable to say I do not meet any of the criterion for antisocial personality disorder. And if that is so, the question remains. Like Ensign Keahi, do I merely struggle with the concept of cognitive empathy, am I devoid of the notion altogether, or have I within me something entirely separate, that cannot be quantified by humanoid terminology? It is a question that has stuck with me from the moment it was postulated. 

"I do not know," I answered, raising my brows and tilting my head once more. "Perhaps my ethical framework serves as a primitive form of empathy in and of itself, in that it guides me away from completing behaviors that others would find noxious." 

" _Or,_ " she holds up a finger, a-now _playful_ expression on her features which I can identify-once more due to proximity to Taurik over these years. " _Maybe you and I are more similar than you think._ " 

It is a distinctly fascinating possibility.

[ _End Recording_ ]


	12. 2344.245

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [i](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/73/Uncanny_valley.png). the uncanny valley graph  
> [ii](https://www.groundline.net/oriondict.php?action=index&type=alpha_e&item=w). starek and d'nila's waterverse dictionary  
> [iii](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZCs5WbOfcrk). ghost love score, "orion composer" tarja turunen

_Personal log. Stardate 2344.245._

[ _Begin Recording_ ] 

As Alyssa once instructed me within the context of our earliest days as roommates at Starfleet Academy, many humanoids place a value upon one's _morning routine_ -this is a set of ritualized behaviors one undertakes between the moments of first awakening, and prior to disembarking for their place of schooling or employment-or in some cases, neither-humanity has since ceased to place a similar value upon _production_ , and in the case of lacking either, I estimate said _routine_ would extend until approximately 1100 FST, the period of time where morning shifts into noontime. 

On board the _Trieste_ , we operate based on FSAT-Federation Standard Adjusted Time. This is a universal Federation designation for all starships outside of the _Sol_ sector, including Utopia Planitia, Luna and Mars. Thus, every starship and exoplanetary facility operates based upon the same timezone, which means that my correspondences with my former Academy-mates align quite neatly. 

My _morning routine_ is one aspect of my life which I can confidently conclude resembles those of other humanoids quite well. Whilst I do not _awaken_ -as I do not require sleep-there is a period of shift in the early hours, when the lights in the halls begin to slowly un-dim, from about 0600 to 0800-when Alpha shift begins, and I must depart-that I move from my work, and my readings, to more personalized tasks. 

One such task is grooming; like other human 'males'-I must shave, and bathe, and maintain oral hygiene-though I do not sweat, my work frequently puts me into contact with noxious materials such as oil and hydrazine, which soak into my composites and can linger. Similarly-I will never experience dental decay, but if I consume a food or beverage, as is often the case when engaging in social contact with humanoids-despite the fact that my brain does not produce _orexin_ -the hormone responsible for initiating the hunger response, I have learned it is rude to decline-if I do not engage in appropriate hygienic procedures, these food items can periodically get lodged in my teeth. 

As I consider these aspects to my existence in front of the mirror, raising and lowering my eyebrows and tugging at the corners of my mouth, I am reminded of what one may consider a humorous anecdote: Alyssa Ogawa happening upon me within our shared bathroom, and laughing heartily at the concept of an _android using shaving cream_. I believe her source of amusement is that, as a machine, her expectation of me is that my experiences diverge so wildly from human as to be entirely alien. While I cannot experience amusement, perhaps when these logs pass to my next-of-kin, they will be capable of grasping the _joke_. 

As I understand it, many humans like to produce humor as a form of gift to their companions. Laughter is pleasant, to be able to induce laughter, then, is a positive contribution. I will continue working upon my _comedy routine_. 

While Alyssa's initial perceptions were incorrect in that moment-that is, I am more _human_ than she first realized-this a prospect that I am certain Dr. Noonien Soong took into consideration after the failure of Lore. I am not programmed to use contractions-to _speak_ humanely-nor engage on an emotively meaningful level, and unlike Lore, I have an unusual filament coloring and eye coloring, and only basic natural expressions. All of which are intended to put me beyond what humans term the _Uncanny Valley_ -or the concept of an android that _nearly_ approaches human, but with some disconnect that makes it abundantly obvious they are not. 

For example, if I were to act _too_ emotional, and become facially expressive, my human compatriots would be ill at-ease. I have encoded a graph illuminating the relationship between mechanical interfaces and their approximation to human appearance. When one _approaches_ looking human, without fully encoding each concept, other humans will quickly recognize that something is _amiss_. Curiously, I have yet to experience this phenomenon, despite on many occasions being told by Taurik and Alyssa, and even Ensign Keahi, that I am _more human than I recognize_. If that is so, should I not discomfit them? 

Accounting the second part of my _morning routine_ , I believe I shall posit this question to Cadet Taurik. I retrieve my personal dataPADD and login to the interstellar nets, colloquially termed _Spacebook_ by those in proximity to humans for an extended period of time-after the 21st century Earth social media networking platform of similar name-though its ordinary name is merely the _nets_ -or _networks_. After checking my encrypted Starfleet channel and discovering two additional product sourcing requests from Commanders Miller and T'Yiron, I move to the forward-facing port, accessing my profile and flicking through my contacts until I happen upon Taurik's severe photograph. 

My initial motive is to determine if he possesses additional insight into my query; I discover he has left me a _musical gift_ for the day, a composition by an Orion soprano entitled _Ŋilb_ -the Animan-Yrevish for _Water_. This selection differs from those he has given me prior, and leaves me quite puzzled. The harmonics are discordant, heavily featuring percussive elements, yet overlaid with a high-pitched melodic series that weaves through and attempts to connect them together. He also explains that Tis-the female on the recording-is a revered artist on Orion Animus, the seventh planet in the Pi-3 Orionis system, but is also enjoyed widely by humans, due to the melding of Orion symphony and Terran _heavy metal_. Orions are famed for such juxtapositions, often taking many components from many areas of space and combining them to create something new and intriguing. 

His note states that he ordinarily refrains from providing such selections, as he does not believe I will _like_ them, but that he has _left the best for last_ -indicating his own personal preference for the choice-along with the _:slight_smile:_ emotigraph-or _emoji_. While my own face is quite rigid and uncompromising in its inability to perform these emotional expressions, the prospect of social media has-as all of my friends have noted-made me appear _more relatable_. I send back _:smiley:_ and the promise that I shall provide a more in-depth critique upon my first shift-break. I am not capable of _like_ nor _dislike_. But it is interesting. 

The second part of my routine complete, I replicate a substantive nutrient paste intended to lubricate my bio-functions and press the cylindrical tube between my lips, considering the multitude of the day's tasks ahead. 

My roommate, Lieutenant Junior Grade Kaira ch'Iaxor, emerges from their sleeping pod, their antennae swiveling toward me abruptly as they tug their shirt on over their head. I have studied Andorian expressionism in anticipation of my assignment to their quarters, and I believe that they experience a form of hostility toward me, though they have never made any outward remarks indicating such. They bid me _good morning_ in the musical pitch of Andorians which registers as _flat_ and abruptly shoves past me to exit our quarters without obtaining the first-meal. 

This is an experience which happens often. They have not been precisely physically aggressive toward me, but frequently act as though I am _in the way_ , pressing their shoulder against mine or their hand against my arm to forcibly move me rather than verbally requesting for that change of behavior. It is something with which I am unsettled, but cannot appropriately name, as they are not disobeying Starfleet regulations, and my sensors do not register any disparate sensations of discomfort beyond that of suddenness. 

Ensign Keahi believes that I should create a recollective log of these experiences as they occur throughout the day, and present them to my commanding officer in the form of a formal complaint-she believes that they are _passive-aggressively_ bullying me. This term indicates that while such statements and behaviors are not _actively_ aggressive, they are intended to create an environment of hostility that cannot be denied by its subject, yet also cannot be accurately depicted in reports. The way to combat _passive-aggression_ , according to her, is by illustrating all occurrences over the course of several weeks to months, to establish a _pattern of behavior_ which cannot be ignored. 

However, I am reticent to do so. One such aspect of military culture I have yet to elucidate upon here is the archaic concept of the _thin blue line_ , a _code of silence_ amongst all military personnel-including Starfleet-that is intended to _cover up_ negative behavior from within its ranks, and harshly _frowns upon_ -or disapproves of-those from within attempting to _tell-on_ -or report-such misconduct to superior officers. If I were to engage in said report, it would disingratiate me from my peers, leveling me as someone to be distrusted, someone that is too preoccupied with rules and regulations to adequately benefit from proper social relationships. 

As I am incapable of experiencing offense, and am not currently being harmed, my best recourse is to endure these behaviors until such time as they become _outwardly_ aggressive. Ensign Keahi disagrees, and believes that by allowing such conduct to continue, I will be directly responsible for any escalation in physical violence. She states that she is accustomed to the bullying patterns of other humanoids, as she has experienced such quite often herself, and while my peers may fail to respect me for it, their opinions are of little consequence in contrast to my wellbeing. 

While I have not yet sought to utilize her advice, I am grateful for her consideration, and have told her as much. 

[ _End Recording_ ]


	13. 2345.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i. tw for kidnapping & rape (non-explicit)

_Personal log. Stardate 2345.1._

[ _Begin Recording_ ] 

Computer, access traditional audio recording entitled _The Ambassador_ by Isaac Asimov.

[ _Accessing_...] 

_How then to enforce peace? Not by reason, certainly, nor by education. If a man could not look at the fact of peace and the fact of war and choose the former in preference to the latter, what additional argument could persuade him? What could be more eloquent as a condemnation of war than war itself? What tremendous feat of dialectic could carry with it a tenth the power of a single gutted ship with its ghastly cargo?_

[...] 

_An unpleasant nest of nasty, materialistic and aggressive people, careless of the rights of others, imperfectly democratic at home though quick to see the minor slaveries of others, and greedy without end._

It has been several (8.6 to be precise) months since I boarded the _Trieste_. For much of this time my experiences have progressed along a linear pathway. While my relationships with the crew component are complex and layered, there is a certain degree of predictability to each day. I know that if I succeed, I will advance in my career goals, and that if I fail, I will require remediation. 

This past week has proven a significant departure to my ordinary expectations, and I find myself without adequate language to analyze this sequence of events. 

On the advice of Counselor Imaniz, I have elected to share within the context of a classified personal log the nature of what has occurred. While she is misguided in her belief that it will make me _feel better_ , it may, perhaps, allow me to understand more of the puzzling nature of what happened. Earlier, I returned from a week-long foray which went particularly badly. Although I do not suffer the effects of trauma or stress, I am concerned for my crewmates who appear shaken by the experience of rescuing me from my circumstances.

I must admit that my thoughts return to the planet of _Acareia_ rather frequently when I am not distracted by my work at the Operations station on the bridge.

Myself, Ensign Keahi and Lieutenant Vales beamed down to the planet of _Acar VII_ , known as _Acareia_ to the inhabitants, to source some rare metallic fibers needed to repair the dilithium construction chamber of our industrial replicator. Whilst not a Federation outpost, we were advised that this area was friendly to Starfleet. This is not the first time I have been on an away mission, but it is the first time that such a mission has not gone according to procedures and protocols.

To begin with, as the ranking Operations officer on the team, it was Lieutenant Vales' duty to negotiate with our contact, one Kivas Fajo of the CTV _Jovis_ , but upon inspection of our personnel, the Zibellian refused to do so with anyone other than myself. While I am programmed with many different linguistic and cultural knowledgebases, it was agreed upon by Marigold and Jihan that I would not be suitable for this task, as I poorly demonstrated the ability to _haggle_ when we _played roles_ in anticipation of the meeting. At first we suspected this was the reason behind Mr. Fajo's insistence-an individual with less negotiating experience may inadvertently concede to a lesser deal. 

However, it became clear very quickly that this was not the reason, and in fact was part of an elaborate deception by the trader to abduct me and place me among his _collected items_. My crewmates were knocked unconscious by anaesthezine gas and I was apprehended in ion cuffs programmed to exceed my strength. 

When I awoke, I was in a room of what I can only presume were stolen artworks and tapestries. My captor, Mr. Fajo, explained to me upon my insistence that I was brought to him for _enjoyment and appreciation_. When I failed to understand what this meant, he elaborated that I was meant to serve as the _crowning jewel_ of his collection, to the envy and curiosity of his colleagues. 

I was instructed repetitively to sit on a specific chair, an effort to _display_ me as a type of object rather than as a person. I was also instructed to remove my uniform and dress in clothing of his choice. Initially I refused, erroneously believing that I was incapable of being harmed by the individual. At first I was threatened with a disruptor, but when it became clear that I would not cooperate even when threatened myself, he instead chose to threaten the life of his servant, Mila. I attempted to create a rapport with Mila to little success, but I was nevertheless incapable of allowing her to come to harm due to my own decisions. 

Thus, I complied with the rest of Mr. Fajo's demands. In essence facilitating my own abuse. 

[ _Pause Recording_ ]  
  
[ _Time Elapsed: 20.2 Seconds_ ]  
  
[ _Resume Recording_ ]

In my mind, there is a distinct separation between the events of my life as they occurred prior to this experience, and the events after. In my seven years of activation I have grown an enormous amount, grasping concepts I would not have believed possible in my infancy. Yet I believe I could analyze these occurrences for the next seven years and grow no closer to forming an accurate summary of them. Counselor Imaniz has assured me that these are very normal, even humanoid responses. For once, I do not take comfort from that appellation. It is my _humanity_ , or at least my approximation of it, which drew the attention of Fajo and his associates in the first place. 

It is challenging to provide context and meaning to these experiences, precisely because I am not human, and I do not possess the same attitudes to my body and my sense of self that humanoids do. I have no sense of modesty, I do not feel shame or embarrassment. Nonetheless, I find myself returning again and again to Captain Leverson's warning that I disallow others from hurting me on the basis of emotional engagement alone-by word or deed-and wonder if I have in fact committed an error. 

My moral subroutines would not allow me an alternate option, so I must conclude that I acted within the realm of rational ethics, but there is much that my programming fails to grasp when dealing with multifaceted interpersonal dynamics. It is most apparent to me especially when such dynamics involve intimacy. Though I hesitate to apply that word to what occurred, as it is semantically suggestive. While I would classify such overtures as assault of a sexual nature, it is my understanding that _assault_ is forcible, whereas I did not resist. 

I would have remained indefinitely as a source of this being's pleasure and entertainment if it had not been for the intervention of the _Trieste_ and my team members. It is therefore difficult not to conclude that I bear a certain measure of responsibility for what occurred to me, and almost no responsibility in absolving myself of my circumstances.

I have yet to fully disclose the nature of my detention with my crewmates. Regrettably, Mr. Fajo escaped, and could not be arrested for his crimes, thus it does not seem relevant to share. That might change, if it were possible to prosecute him and attain justice for others he has victimized. I have discovered that many humans find these discussions to be vulgar and unsettling. Even though they are capable of expressing empathy, and would perhaps be able to offer more insight into my challenges in analytics, it is not my wish to induce the sensation of discomfort within another person. I am now very familiar with that sensation, and do not find it to be enjoyable.

My existence has always been an isolating one. I am the only _Soong_ -type android in existence and one of the very few sentient artificial life-forms in existence. I am a culture of one, with only references to those I live amongst for comparison. I spent my formative years completely alone, on a planet where only internal programming and memory logs kept me _living_ in a suspended state of quasi-awareness. 

I suppose, in effect, I truly thought I understood the depths to which one _can_ feel alone. I am reluctant to reach out to my friends, even though I have been met only with support and understanding. There is an aspect of _dehumanization_ that is often not discussed in literature. It is not merely being treated as though I am not an intelligent, self-actualized individual, but that by its very nature, the experiences I endured have now separated me from other beings as well. 

It is accurate to suggest that these experiences are formative; they comprise my sole first-hand knowledge of sexual activity, and I must admit to trepidation at further exposure. I have often thought that one day I might take a mate, even procreate. These thoughts are less appealing now, for reasons I cannot quite express. While ultimately those experiences would be far different, based in mutual respect, it is challenging to separate. 

I know what cruelty is, and have been targeted cruelly in the past, but after so long I still fail to grasp the inherent reason behind behaving cruelly to others. There is a loss of clarity and cohesion in my recollection, a loss of individuality which I have learned to value above all else-in others, yes, but also in myself. I am not unique. I am not individual. I am not intelligent. I am, in these memories, little more than a tool. An _automaton_ , as Mr. Fajo characterized it. 

The only person who appears to know precisely what has happened, or at least inferred, is Taurik-as the news of my capture evidently has reached Mars. 

We have known one another for nearly five years, but in reality, I know very little of Taurik's private life other than that he has a twin brother named Vorik-an exceptional occurrence in Vulcans as siblings are rare and identical twins even rarer-and he belonged to Vulcan's SIO group, the _V'Shar_. To that end, I am aware he has spent extended periods of time undercover. He has sent me some curious literature by Judith Herman, with the message that it helped him re-assimilate in society after an impactful experience with the Orion syndicate. 

_While these works may not provide emotional solace, I have found them beneficial in understanding the nature of how traumatic events differ from ordinary ones. While the ordinary response to atrocity is to bury it, above all, recovery cannot occur in isolation. I am available should you request it. The_ Trieste _is not so far away that one cannot make time for one's friends, Lieutenant Data._

Oddly enough, I find his message... assuring. 

[ _End Recording_ ]


	14. 2345.25

_Personal log. Stardate 2345.25._

[ _Begin Recording_ ]

Ensign ch'Iaxor and myself have come into conflict.

Since the last time I have recorded my logs, I elected to follow Ensign Keahi's advice and have requested different quarters assignment. While I ordinarily would not have done so, recent events have made me reconsider the way in which I tolerate ill-treatment toward me.  
  
Counselor Imaniz believes that it is a way in which I am able to re-assert individual sovereignty. While this assessment may be accurate, I am wary of allowing my experiences to affect my behavior in ways which are untoward. Despite their mannerisms, Ensign ch'Iaxor is not responsible for what happened, and they have taken offense to my request and believe that I have made it due to considering myself in an elevated nature to them.

Given our unique requirements and suitable personalities, Marigold and myself have been roomed together. She has stated that she has had difficulties in the past with those who took issue with her idiosyncratic behaviors. As I am incapable of experiencing auditory, visual or tactile overstimulation, this is not a concern for me. This assignment is preferable to me, as we are compatible individuals, but I regret causing discord between myself and another crewmember and am uncertain how to rectify the situation.

"You could send them a fruit basket," Taurik smirked at me from across the table in the mess hall, raising his glass to the Andorian in question, who gave him what can only be described as a _withering glare_. This is Taurik's third day aboard the _Trieste_ , and I am grateful for the appearance of someone with whom I am familiar. His suggestion-as many of his suggestions are wont to do-leaves me puzzled. 

"I do not believe fruit will solve my problems." 

"Data, can I be honest with you? I do not think you have a problem. They will either get over it, or they won't. Either way, it isn't your issue." 

"It is my desire to preserve the social relationships between myself and my crewmates," I explain. 

"Sometimes-" he clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth and waves his chopsticks-a decidedly _human_ impulse, as Vulcans almost rarely gesture with their hands so publicly. "There is nothing to do for it. You cannot please everyone, and if you try, you will lose all sense of agency."

"An interesting observation, Ensign," is all I can say to that. It is interesting, but I find myself uncertain how to integrate this new data into my positronic matrix. I am uncertain if it is my programming, which entitles me to focus upon pleasing humanoids, thus rending me quite similar to a serviceable machine-or if it is merely my _personality_ -such as it were-that causes me to shy away from interpersonal conflicts. I nevertheless find them unpleasant. It is the nature of my _self_ (such as it is) that I desire to find solutions amicable to all parties in any given scenario. 

I naturally presume that Ensign ch'Iaxor is not acting antagonistic for its own sake, but that they possess a genuine grievance with me which may be resolved. But, as Taurik indicates, this may not be the case. It may be that Ensign ch'Iaxor is prejudiced, and there is little I can do to assuage it. I know one thing is sure. I will not permit such prejudice to continue when I have a reasonable chance to cease experiencing it. I have not caused harm to Ensign ch'Iaxor, and by having a new room assignment, it is my hope that their own fears will be alleviated. It is, as Alyssa claims, a _win-win_ situation.

The _Trieste_ has left the _Tagaz_ -system and we are en route to Starbase 118, for what the crew enthusiastically refer to as _much-needed shore leave_. As an android I do not require a respite period from my work, nor do I require stimulation one might consider _entertaining_ , thus I will continue my duties aboard the ship to allow my colleagues their necessary decompression time. 

I have found myself returning to this concept more the closer we arrive to the Starbase-that of _entertainment_ -the idea that one being may be purposed for the express and arbitrary purpose of amusing another. It is not something I yet fully understand; _why_ such a thing should occur, and should occur to myself. I cannot help but wonder if it is indicative of a failure of my design that I both was-and could not anticipate being-chosen by Fajo for this purpose. 

"Interesting? No. Necessary? Absolutely," Taurik ensures to tell me before rising gracefully to his feet. "Do not forget to avail yourself of the station's shore leave facilities. You may not require a vacation, but you do require _time_."


End file.
